


The Distance Home to You

by huldrejenta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huldrejenta/pseuds/huldrejenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus has invited Scorpius to join him on a Potter-Weasley trip to the countryside. Scorpius accepts, because surely he's able to go away with Albus without revealing his crush? He'll just have to keep his distance. It turns out to be anything but easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Distance Home to You

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this, dear this_bloody_cat :)
> 
> Many thanks to twistedm for the beta read on very short notice.

So, here he is, Scorpius Malfoy, the most pitiful excuse for a supposedly quick-witted Ravenclaw ever to have finished Hogwarts and quite possibly the oldest virgin alive, gawking at Albus with a half-open mouth and what he suspects is a most baffled look. 

“What was that?” he manages when the silence has lasted too long and _every normal person_ would’ve said something ages ago.

Albus puts a ridiculously appealing smile onto his ridiculously appealing face and steps even closer. Dear God, doesn’t he have any concept of personal space _at all_?

“I just said that we’ll be sharing the room upstairs. It’ll be just like old times, you know.” 

Yup, that’s what Scorpius thought he’d said. His usual eloquence momentarily forgotten, he struggles again to find a reply. It’s not easy to tell someone that sharing a dormitory with each other _and_ two other boys is _not_ the same thing as the two of them bunking together in a room the size of his wardrobe back home. He’d _specifically_ been told there were plenty of rooms available in the house. Not to mention that this colossal crush and the elaborate fantasies about his painfully oblivious friend didn’t start bothering him until after they’d left Hogwarts. So no, it’s not _just like old times._

“Unless,” Albus says. One of his black curls has fallen into his eyes, and the not very well hidden desire in Scorpius’ belly stirs with interest. “Unless you’d rather share with Mum’s great aunt, who must be about one hundred seventy by now and louder than ever. So hopefully you’ll prefer me.” He flashes a smile the size of a cloudless summer sky, and dear God, Scorpius is flushed with heat all over. “Every other room is full to the brim with Weasleys from all around the world, it seems.”

And that, apparently, is that. Two minutes he’s been inside this house, and already he can kiss a speedy, heartfelt good-bye to his own pep-talk that had said _of course I can join Albus on this trip, as long as I don’t have to share a room with him_. 

But he can do this. Of course he can. He’s a Malfoy, isn’t he? Certainly capable of playing the part of an unaffected, completely blasé best friend, who _never_ imagines Albus looking at him with glassy eyes the second before they kiss, or, in more voracious moments, pictures himself kneeling between Albus’ legs with a strong hand in his hair, pulling him in. 

The trick is not to think about any of it. Piece of cake. It’s not as if he’ll be sharing a bed with Albus.

~~~

“What do you mean, there’s only one bed?” 

For Merlin’s sake, why can’t he just _act normal_ for once in his life and at least get the question out with a firm voice instead of squeaking like he’s about to hit puberty? Is that too much to ask? 

To be fair, though, it’s not easy keeping his cool when Albus jumps onto _the only bed_ in the room with an elegance that would put a hunting eagle to shame, neatly rocking up and down a few times to test the mattress. 

“I mean exactly what I said, it’s only one bed. Bouncy little thing, too. Come on and check it out, Scorpius!”

Thankfully, the bed isn’t _that_ small. There should be enough room for the two of them, and it wouldn’t have been so bad had his room-mate, no, _bed-mate_ , been anyone besides Albus Potter. The thought of sharing it with Albus, though...

Well. He’ll simply have to sleep very close to the edge of the bed, where he can put as much space between them as possible, and it will all be fine. He’s suddenly feeling very grateful about the pyjamas in his bag, the ones he hardly ever wears. He can do this. He can survive one night in bed with Albus without jumping all over him, surely.

“Come on, Scorpius, cheer up. I know you’re not used to sharing a bed, but it’s only me, you know. And you can sleep closest to the wall, because I usually have to get up and use the loo during the night, and I don’t want to disturb you. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Perfect. That’s just perfect. Scorpius has no reply to offer. What’s _wrong_ with him? He’s always been able to talk to Albus, but now there’s nothing.

At least, he tells himself as a small comfort, Albus _always_ wears a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms to bed. Thank fuck for small mercies.

~ ~ ~

“It just so bloody warm in here!” 

Oh no. If it’s one thing Scorpius does _not_ need, in any way, shape or form, it’s Albus stripped down to his boxers, lying down in all his glory, stretching and somehow making them settle even lower on his hips. It’s been enough of an ordeal having to smile and laugh and talk politely to an endless horde of Potters and Weasleys all day, and Scorpius is not ready for this, not even a little bit.

Even on the warmest days back at Hogwarts, Albus would wear something to bed, quite often socks included, because he’d kick his covers off and get cold during the night. Apparently that’s changed. 

“Are you coming, or what?”

Okay, just _act normal_ for crying out loud. If he can manage that one little thing, no one will know that he’s trying very hard not to succumb to the incessant pounding of his heart and run over to Albus with his arms wide open and his heart on his sleeve. 

“Of course,” he says, loudly, Merlin, it’s way too loud, practically a shout, and he winces. But Albus smiles, and he keeps _looking_ at Scorpius, with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Scorpius is hungry for that look, hungry for the twitch in the crook of Albus’ mouth when he quirks a smile, and Scorpius can’t help but let his eyes glide over the anatomical perfection that is Albus Potter’s body. Just for a second, because really, what’s a bloke supposed to do? 

He rummages around in his bag until he finds his pyjamas and pulls them out. They're not particularly fashionable, but they will serve their purpose, he supposes, which is creating a flimsy shield between Albus’ smooth-looking skin and his own aching body. A thin layer of cotton fabric and a few inches of space between them in the bed is all the defence he’s got, and he’d better make the most of it. 

So he puts on his stupid pyjamas and walks over to the bed, where Albus lies splayed out and _dear God_ makes no sign of moving to let Scorpius pass. He has to practically climb over Albus to get to his assigned spot, a suddenly far too narrow strip of sheets and covers and a fluffy-looking pillow. 

Albus sighs when Scorpius has _finally_ reached his side of the bed. It’s a content little sigh, faint and untroubled. He curls up on his side, pulls the sheets up and says, low and soft and way too close to Scorpius’ ear, “Good night. I’m glad you’re here.”

Is it totally inappropriate to fantasize about his half-naked and completely unreachable friend while he’s lying right next to him? Yeah, it probably is. _Sleep, Scorpius, just go to sleep, and tomorrow will come soon enough._ “Good night,” he says (croaks) and tries to relax.

~~~

Oh, no.

In all his lucid fantasies, and there’s been no lack of those, he’s never realised just how electrifying it would be to wake up in the black of the night with Albus’ arm around his waist, a naked chest stuck to his back like glue, and their legs neatly intertwined. 

Scorpius inhales shakily, trying to estimate roughly how many seconds he’s got before his body triumphs over his mind and the already rather revealing state of affairs between his legs will reach a disastrous level. Possibly about fifteen, but then Albus squirms against him and makes a _mewling_ kind of noise, and sweet Merlin, five seconds is probably more accurate. 

“Hey,” Albus whispers softly, and then, “Oh,” as he shakes himself more awake and obviously notices that he’s practically lying on top of his friend. Scorpius wants to breathe him in, just one time, before Albus draws away. Which he’s going to do any second now, of course, and that’s a good thing, a really, really good thing. Albus will never know how this has affected Scorpius, and they can put it all behind them. 

Instead, Albus swings one leg around Scorpius’ hip. He does it with a slow, soft movement that does nothing to hide his obvious arousal. Merlin on a broomstick, Albus is hard and very, very close, and there’s no way this will end with Scorpius’ dignity anywhere near intact. 

“Scorpius.” There’s so much affection in Albus’ voice, like he really means this. He presses a kiss against Scorpius’ neck, making him gasp. The mattress creaks as Albus shifts, pulling Scorpius with him until he lies on his back, before sneaking his hand around Scorpius’ belly, worryingly close to the waistband of his now too tight pyjama bottoms.

There’s no way that Albus hasn’t noticed.

“Is this okay?” Albus hums against his shoulder. “You and I, having a good time?”

 _No!_ Scorpius wants to say, _it’s not okay, you clueless little fool!_ But it’s no use, of course, he can’t turn away from this: his one chance of having Albus. Even if it’s just _having a good time._

He opens himself up and whispers, “Of course.”

Friends do this all the time, right? As long as Albus thinks this is merely larking about for them both, it should be fine. He reaches for Albus’ face and lets himself sink in.

~~~ 

When Scorpius wakes up again, hours later, with the late morning sun tilting in through the window and the sheets messily tangled around his naked waist, his first thought is _I’ve ruined everything._

Memories of last night come flooding through his head. The warm kisses, the insistent hands, the things he’d said, like, “Can’t believe we’re finally doing this, and, “Albus, my Albus”, and – oh no – “Love you”. Or was that inside his head? Oh, yes, please say that’s how it was.

Albus’ eyelids start twitching, he’s stretching his sleep-heavy body with a low sigh. He’ll wake up any second now, and if he utters any words like _let’s forget this_ , or _mistake_ , or _no big deal, right?_ Scorpius suspects he won’t recover easily. Carefully, he starts shifting away.

But Albus opens his eyes, yawns lightly and looks at him as if searching for something. Finally, he smiles. It’s a smile that creates a swooping sensation somewhere in Scorpius’ belly. A smile that embraces a thousand promises. 

Maybe Scorpius can’t tell what exactly that smile is promising, but in this moment, he doesn’t have to. Right now, this is enough.

And slowly, he finds himself smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](http://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/89085.html).
> 
>  
> 
> I'm also on [LiveJournal](http://huldrejenta.livejournal.com/profile/) and [Tumblr](http://huldrejenta.tumblr.com/) :) Feel free to say hi!


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